Crosshairs
by pocketcucco
Summary: K doesn't appreciate it when Shuichi tries to braid his hair.


**Author Note: **Just a forewarning, but I haven't read the _Gravitation _manga yet; I've only seen the 13 episodes of the anime and the two OVA episodes (although I _do _know some information from the manga itself). If I screwed up on some information--which I probably have--I'm sorry. But this is just a short oneshot, so, hopefully I haven't screwed something up.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Gravitation _or K's hair. Unfortunately.

_Crosshairs_

Claude K. Winchester had always felt that Shuichi's good days were a bit of a mixed blessing. The group would often get a good amount of recording or rehearsing done since their lead vocalist was 'fired up', but on the other hand, he was usually too hyper to stay focused on anything for any extended period of time.

The group had decided to take a break after Shuichi's third stumble over his lines—he was a gifted singer, K had to admit, but when he was overexcited things had a tenancy to go downhill—and Shuichi remembered that he had to meet with Yuki for lunch.

And, as usual, Sakano's incessant babbling had been enough to wear down K's nerves and he forced himself into exile in his office, leaving Hiro and Fujisaki to deal with whatever came next.

K could only guess that Shuichi would be out for an hour or so—he preferred not to elaborate about what went on behind closed doors—and, after rigging his door with another smoke bomb, he began dozing off in his leather swivel chair. If anyone tried to come through, he'd hear them and jump to his feet, guns at the ready and bullets flying.

Or so he thought.

He felt a brief, subdued tugging at the back of his head and considered following through with his firearms plan. But the sensation quickly disappeared and he dismissed it as only that; an imagined sensation, and nothing more.

Several minutes later, he could feel it again. Something—or some_one_, rather—was behind him.

K paused for a moment, tensing every muscle in his arms as he mentally checked off everything he needed to grab: his trusted magnum, a grenade, and quite possibly one of the smoke bombs hidden carefully in his desk.

He only knew several people who could get past his smoke bomb door alarm; there was his boss, Touma, who was constantly expecting that kind of stunt from his employee. But wouldn't Touma try calling him first? And he wasn't the type to come directly to K—he'd definitely call K to _his _office on one of the upper floors.

Ryuichi, the vocalist he had originally acted as a manager for, was another possible culprit. But Ryuichi wouldn't be so careful and quiet; if Ryu were behind him, he'd be humming one of his favorite songs (all made-up, of course) while talking to his stuffed pink rabbit.

And last but not least, there was—

"Shuichi," K cocked the magnum in his hand and opened one eye, "might I ask just what you're up to?"

"K!" Shuichi's vibrant, overexcited voice was unmistakable to him by now. "We're all ready to get back to recording. I came to get you, but you were asleep."

K reluctantly replaced his magnum and stood up. Something about the back of his head felt different; he touched it and realized that his messy ponytail had been woven into a chaotic braid.

Shuichi was well aware that K hated it when people tried playing with his hair; they often ended up looking down the barrel of a gun. He had to be in a _really _good mood if he was willing to risk so much.

K _always _tried to be the best manager he could—after all, he was known in N-G Productions for being able to pull the underdogs to the top and keep them there, as he had with Bad Luck. But sometimes, the band members—specifically Shuichi, in this case—needed a little kicking around and shaping up.

Shuichi was still smiling, although there were nervous beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "K?" he stuttered uneasily, the corner of his mouth twitching when he saw the grenade in K's hand and the smoke bomb still rigged and ready at the office door.

The magnum took its place in K's right hand and he clicked the safety, a familiar grin forming on his face. "You have five seconds of a head start. Use it well."


End file.
